


I Have Nothing if I Don't Have You

by Ailorian, quixoticquest



Series: A Lot Can Happen in 27 Years [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adulthood, Amputation, Everyone Is Alive, Except Pennywise and Georgie, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Pennywise death, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sequel, True Love's Kiss, finale, part three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-24 01:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15619146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailorian/pseuds/Ailorian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticquest/pseuds/quixoticquest
Summary: Richie realizes he never should have let Eddie go. Too bad it takes him 27 years and It's death for him to figure that out. Thank god Eddie is forgiving, and more than willing to share the rest of his life with the high school sweetheart he never fell out of love with.





	I Have Nothing if I Don't Have You

**Author's Note:**

> This is it, folks! The final part of this series I keep talking up. I'm so pleased with all the support and positive feedback I've gotten so far, thank you so much! (Also, this technically functions as a stand alone fic, but if you want to get the whole overarching story then please start at the beginning!)
> 
> I made a Spotify playlist for this series. It doesn't really have a specific feel or anything (I'm not good at vibey playlists), they're just songs that remind me of Reddie and this story. If you have a suggestion for the playlist, please let me know! - https://open.spotify.com/user/rexlexrae/playlist/6EHyCtddzBWyWgBg4W8iIL?si=7T8rZAdaQRyzK5H4UyU28w
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

_JUST MARRIED_ , read the powder blue card in flowing script, embossed with bows and flowers and all the bells and whistles that weddings entailed. Plastered in the center was a photo of Richie, with a woman Eddie had never seen in his entire life. Her hair was the same color as the card and she had a gap between her teeth.

Whether Richie was cruel, or just dumb, was up for debate. He had been like this for as long as Eddie could remember, but the card in his hand was a whole other level of shameless. Who told their estranged ex-boyfriend they had gotten married?

Of course, Eddie hadn’t seen Richie in a little over a year. People got on with their lives. And he was always pedalling that _they were friends before anything else_ nonsense.

Maybe Eddie was the dumb one. Maybe it had been so long that he had no right to be offended.

“Any mail?” Sonia called monotonously, from the recliner in front of the TV.

“Just some junk,” Eddie answered, dropping the card in the waste bin to flip through his bills.

***

“Got some news.”

“You an extra in some stupid movie again?”

“No! The papers went through, with the court. I’m officially a single man.”

“Double divorcee,” Eddie droned on the other end of the line, sounding far less excited than Richie wanted him to be. “Charming.”

“Hey, I told you, the first one was _annulled_ ,” Richie corrected, thumbing through his closet for something to wear for his gig that evening. “So, it technically never even happened.”

“That’s some BS.”

“You can take it up with the Pope, Eds. M’not even Catholic.” Enthralling as his own wardrobe could be, Richie was much more taken with the tired voice on the phone. One hint that Eddie wouldn’t want to be speaking to anyone else in the entire world, and his day was as good as made.

“So, now that that’s all cleared up. You wanna come out and visit me? My place’s really nice. The water doesn’t even run brown.”

“You want me to put my entire business on hold for a weekend in LA? Are you fucking nuts?”

“ _No_ is perfectly fine, Eddie,” Richie grumbled, feeling a flush begin to creep from his ears.

“I didn’t say no,” Eddie snapped. “I’ll check out flights. Call you back soon.”

***

Before Eddie lost his nerve standing in the creepy alley of a city he was barely familiar with, the stage door beside him burst open. Richie came out, dressed in a simple shirt and jeans. Only an hour ago he had been wearing a nice suit, owning the stage.  
  
“Hey!” Richie lit up, even though all Eddie was doing was standing there. “Did you like it? I mean I know you’re biased ‘cause you’re infatuated with me but give me your worst, Eds, I can take it.”  
  
Eddie rolled his eyes, even as his cheek pinched into a smile. “It was great, Rich. You’re really funny. You’ve always been funny. Everyone loved you up there.”  
  
Richie gasped, breath choking dramatically as he clutched his hands to his chest. “The truth comes out.”  
  
“Oh shut up.”  
  
Shut up Richie did, for once. He closed the meager distance between them, and Eddie met his mouth with an eagerness he couldn’t help but stifle, just a little. He had been waiting to get his hands on Richie since the airport, and after enduring the entirety of his bit, watching from afar, he was finally able. Eddie curled his hands into Richie’s shirt, vying for leverage that would have them kissing harder, deeper.  
  
“Hey Tozier! Great show!”  
  
They separated in time for the stage door to bump open again, and for a couple of guys to pour out, reminding Eddie that no private moment in LA was ever _that_ private.  
  
“Had me in stitches!”

“Hilarious as always.”

“Who’s this, Richie?”  
  
“This is Eddie,” Richie answered, a much more casual grip coming around Eddie’s back. “We’re friends, from high school. Before that even. Right Eds?”  
  
Eddie smiled, and nodded. He didn’t even have it in him to be disappointed. After all, it was closer to the truth than risky words like _boyfriend_ and _lover_ . 

***

New York was so fucking cold in the winter. Richie didn’t own gloves, and Eddie had been nagging him to stop shivering for the last hour.

“Myra?” Richie demanded incredulously, warming his hands against the vent in the limousine. “Like, _my rah_? Her name is Rah? And you’ve already taken ownership of her?”

“ _Myra_ ,” Eddie pronounced, giving him a withering look. “She’s a publicist, she’s not my anything. Yet. I just thought, I dunno, maybe for the tax benefits. And the financial stability, while I’m still taking care of my mom.”

“Sounds kinda dumb,” Richie murmured. “You’re gay anyway, Eds. It’s stupid to get married to someone you don’t love.”

Eddie scowled, and even with the knowledge that he was being completely transparent, Richie couldn’t help but wish he picked his words better.

“Right. I forgot you have the market cornered on that one.”

Richie blanched. “I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck off, Richie.” Swinging himself up, Eddie practically launched out of the limo, stalking off down the street past freezing New Yorkers.

“Eds, this is _your_ ride!”

***

"There’s a golfer on tour in Ireland,” Richie began, all wild gestures, even with a glass of wine in one hand, “driving a shiny BMW because he can. He pulls over for gas between one course and another, and there's an old Irish man in a beat up truck on the other side when the golfer gets out to pump his gas. He drops his wallet and bends down to pick it up, and two golf tees fall out of his pocket. As he's picking them up, the Irish man asks, 'What are those for?' And the golfer says 'they're for resting my balls when I drive.' The Irish man gives him this look and then he goes, 'Fuck me, BMW tinks of everytin!'"  
  
The whole group dissolved into uproarious laughter. Richie beamed at the center of it all, downing the rest of his glass in the wake of his success. Eddie frowned from his perch near the window; either he had no sense of humor or he was in a room full of liars. He couldn’t really tell which.  
  
“Another one, Richie,” some guy said, answered by a chorus of agreement. Eddie decided he could do without, and got up as discreetly as possible. He gathered his things, dumped his wine down the drain, and headed for the door. At this point he had been in Richie’s new apartment enough times to see himself out all by himself.  
  
“Eds!” Before he could make his clean getaway, Richie came bounding into the foyer, eyes wide, worry lines creasing above his brows. “Where you going? The party just started.”  
  
“I’m tired,” Eddie lied. It didn’t take a genius to see he didn’t fit in with Richie’s Hollywood crowd. “Tomorrow’s my last day, I don’t want to spend it hungover.”  
  
“Oh, gotcha. Keep me posted, okay?”  
  
“Okay.” Eddie lied again. 

***

“I can’t _fucking_ believe you got married again!”

“Listen, Eddie, it’s not what it looks like,” Richie countered, struggling to keep his voice low while Catalina Rodriguez-Tozier slept in the other room.

“It’s exactly what it looks like! Why do you even tell me except to get a rise out of me?!”

“No no no, Eds, it’s a Visa situation. It’s only temporary, it’s just for a little while. Besides, it’s kind of like we’re swindling the-”

“I don’t care. I’m thirty-six I’m too old for this shit. I was too old for it at eighteen! Just leave me alone.” Eddie hung up, leaving Richie to sigh to no one, into the receiver.

Eddie would be fine, after all was said and done. He always was. Whether that was a comfort or not, Richie couldn’t be sure.

***

“Blueberries or peas?” Beverly asked sympathetically, offering both from her aunt’s freezer. Ben held out his hand for the bag of frozen peas, and smushed it over his puffy, purple eye, wincing and whimpering all the while. Beside him at the kitchen island, Eddie searched his backpack for a bandaid big enough to cover the gash on his chin, and Richie rifled through the ransacked storybook that had gotten Ben pummeled in the first place.

“No offense, Haystack, but maybe if you don’t want to get your clock cleaned you shouldn’t read fairytales in broad daylight where everyone can see,” Richie offered unhelpfully, fingering the torn pages. “You don’t see me sitting pretty with my magazines where everyone can see.”

Beverly shot him a stern look, so he didn’t say anything more. With her and Eddie already playing nurse, there wasn’t much for Richie to do.

“I read somewhere that the original versions of those stories are actually kind of fucked up,” Eddie offered, smoothing the bandage over Ben’s soft chin. “Like, with murder and stuff. That sounds pretty cool too me. Anyone who’s too stupid know is just shit for brains.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like those versions,” Ben answered, his split lip muffling his words a little. “The retellings are happier.”

“Yeah you were first in line to see _Little Mermaid_ ,” Richie chimed in - only to add, “And it was really good!” when Beverly came at him with an elbow.

“You think any of that stuff is real, Ben?” Eddie asked, settled against the counter with his head on his hands, now that his work was done. “Happy endings and true love’s kiss and all that?”

Ben glanced at Bev, who was pulling a couple of popsicles out for the four of them. A memory from a time they preferred to forget didn’t quite come to fruition before he answered.

“I think it’s real. You just gotta believe in it.”

That was before they all grew up, and went off into the world on their own. Before summer love, and high school reunions. Before twenty-seven years came and went. Before a phone call. Before a close call in a sewer and a kiss on the cheek. Before, and after, that stupid clown.

***

Silence had never been so monumentally overwhelming. Every swell of anxiety that accompanied the approach of a nurse or doctor to the limp form on the bed beside Richie left him drained. Nothing to fend of with the strike of a bat or an empowering group hug, and it left Richie not only powerless and on edge, but without anything resembling an end or an escape in sight. There was only the slow, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor over his right shoulder to alleviate the worst of his fears, the ones that plagued him since the very moment Eddie’s back hit the ground in the sewer.

 _It_ had nothing on this.  
  
“Richie?”  
  
A harsh whisper drew his body upright and rigid faster than anything else had in the last several hours. In a heartbeat, Richie was on the edge of his seat, halfway to standing while his hand rose to grip a sheet-covered hip, only to recoil when he couldn't be sure what would cause harm.  
  
"Eds," Richie croaked in response, swallowing thickly at the sharpness of his voice, that had been yelling too recently, and silent too long. "Hey, hi, you're awake. Just stay calm."

The beeping monitor stirred his own pulse like a spoon. Richie rose to his feet to lean over the bed, looking for dark eyes. Eyes, open, blinking, staring, he’d take them however they came. Just open.

With Eddie’s gaze trailing around the sterile room, taking in Derry General Hospital in all its dingy eggshell glory, it wasn’t long before he noticed the stump. The clean, gauze-wrapped stump where his left arm had once been, cleaned up and stitched by doctors who knew exactly what they were doing (he had to remind himself). Richie had never been one for blood but in the last thirty-six hours he had seen enough to last a lifetime.

"How long have I been here?" Eddie asked, sounding like he had deepthroated a cotton plant recently. "Where're the others? Is Mike okay? Did I miss my train?"

"Well, gee, Eddie. I missed you too," Richie huffed with a laugh, more relieved by the stream of consciousness than he could imagine ever being again. Trying to answer all that in order was probably beyond him, though, and he found himself looking for a place to put his hands while he sank back down, barely catching the edge of his seat.  
  
"Just a day," he answered eventually, trying to keep his own voice even - though it had already betrayed him at onset. "Overnight, too, so, day two I guess. Mike's - uh - fine. So's Stan. And Bev - well, everyone. They’re fine. I don't know who's here. There were discussions of a hotel. A _different_ hotel, but. You know them." Dragging a hand over his mouth, Richie adjusted himself, shoulders rolling while his eyes searched for signs of distress, even as Eddie lie there mostly still.  
  
"Hey, if anyone asks, we're married," he mentioned, glancing over his shoulder to the door, before he leaned toward Eddie again. "Afternoon girl here is pretty suspicious but they weren't gonna let us see you." 

Eddie’s tired eyes narrowed incredulously, needlessly skeptical, even in the wake of all that had happened. Before Richie could plead his case though, Eddie groaned, tossing his hand - the only one - over his eyes.

"Richie, you're great, okay, but I don't think I can handle your bullshit right now."

"Yes, dear," Richie murmured, utterly sincere despite the giddy and terrified pounding of his heart. Relief flooded his head, his blood, left him with the weightless sensation of a dream, or a trick. Despite his mind's almost intentional refusal to muse upon the past week, he couldn't quite shake the dread that suffused him at the mere acknowledgement of the possibility that this wasn't real. Waking up in a minute or two to realize nothing had changed in the last hour very well may be his worst fear of all. Nothing that thing could have conjured up compared to this.  
  
Richie shifted forward, chair legs scraping, as his head and arms fell onto the cushion beside Eddie's ribs. His fingers were gentle but desperate as they curled into the sheets, brushing the hospital gown before he tried, ineffectually, to pull them closer together. If it weren’t for the potential harm, he might have climbed in right beside Eddie just to satisfy his urge to touch.  
  
"You're gonna be okay, Eds," Richie breathed, head lifting to search dark eyes. He couldn't quite see past the swell of Eddie's chest and the angle of his jaw, never mind his own hands - scraped up, bruised, even if he still had both of them. "I needja to be okay, okay? Thought I'd lost you, there, and I...." Richie chuckled derisively, brows pinched, and shook his head once. "I can't lose you, Eds. I love you." 

Eddie stared at him, while the moments flew by. Too many moments had just up and flown by in the last forty years and Richie wished that time would just stop for once in his goddamn life.

"Hey, it's okay," Eddie said finally, smiling as much as he was able. "I know, you guys, probably worried sick over me. But it's just my arm. I've got another one right here.”

Richie almost choked on a laugh, a smile breaking his own face for the first time in hours, if not days. He sucked in air like a drowning man, head shaking in disbelief. Bullshit was so difficult to resist in moments like this, right on the heels of sincerity he could hardly believe he was capable of.  
  
"Well, hey, I'll getcha a new one. Any color you want, on me. Actually, on you, but I'll spare no expense." There was a blink, a heart beat - the monitor echoing in his own chest - and Richie pushed to his feet again.

Bowing over the bed, he set his split and swollen lip against dry chapped ones. Eddie was cool against him but not cold, and he twitched to life at the contact, stealing the breath right from Richie's lungs. He pulled away after just a moment, staring down as his teeth scraped over his own bottom lip.  
  
"Anything hurt?" he asked, recognizing the ridiculous question for what it was. "Can I get you a drink? A pillow? A nurse?" 

I'm fine," Eddie answered, which was an understatement, but what could you do? "For once I’m thrilled to be drugged up. I'm fine. You're all I need right now." Brushing his thumb over Richie's cheekbone, Eddie tipped himself up to align their lips again, all on his own.

Rather than keep Eddie strained, Richie pressed him back down, tilting his cheek into the warm palm as their mouths brushed together. His knee bent to put his weight on the edge of the bed, alleviating some strain in his back as Richie set his hand down on the far side - not willing to risk knocking into something crucial.  
  
"You were supposed to wake us," Beverly accused from the doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand.

Richie couldn't be startled enough to jump away at this point, but he twisted his head to glance at her. Expecting a glare of some sort, he found her turning away instead, probably to fetch the rest of them.  
  
"Lemme get you a drink before the hens get here," Richie murmured, hesitant to leave Eddie's side for even the moment it would take to grab the cup at the sink. "Sit tight for a sec."

Hasty in his movements, the tall brunet still wasn't able to beat the first arrival, as Ben caught the door frame for a sharp turn, and settled at Eddie’s bedside in seconds - followed closely by Stan, Bill, and Bev. There almost wasn't room around the bed for Richie to stand.

"Hey guys," Eddie said half-heartedly, voice clearer after a sip of water. He attempted to sit up, no doubt in an effort to make himself more presentable, wriggling, since he had only one hand to work with.  
  
"We were real worried about you there," Bill said, looking like he would have gone in to help if it weren't for the tangle of wires and tubes and gauze.  
  
"It's just an arm," Eddie said - understatement of the century. He sounded defensive, quick to keep them from pitying him. Some things never changed. "They must be real sick of seeing you guys cart your bleeding friends into the ER. I hope you're not getting any trouble about it."

"There isn't time for them to connect the dots with Richie terrorizing the nurses station," Stan mentioned dryly, favoring his own (mild) wounds from the other night as he lowered himself gently into the recently vacated seat. Ben set a comforting hand on his shoulder, his smile pinched but relieved. All of them were not quite able to hide the concern - and the pity - hard earned as it was, really.

"Terrorizing?" Eddie repeated, casting a suspicious glance toward Richie. He smiled sheepishly, though, wouldn’t have used the word _terrorizing_ .  
  
The cluck of a tongue drew a few gazes toward the door, where a nurse had finally decided to respond to the change in heart rate and crowd of people filing into a room. Bev and Bill stepped aside to give the stranger room, even as five sets of protective gazes followed her every move.  
  
"Are you in any pain?" she asked, sparing a glare for Richie who hovered closer than the rest, a hand on the bed like he was marking his territory. 

"Oh, no, don't feel a thing," Eddie griped with a roll of his eyes. "Better than ever." Ben snorted with his hand over his mouth next to him, and Richie was hard-pressed not to smile himself - the dam that had been threatening to break in his eyes almost flooding over. Eddie would definitely be fine.

"Good," the nurse retorted in a clipped tone, retrieving the clipboard to make her notes before she reached into a drawer beneath the bed, and handed him a remote on a long cord. "Here. If it starts to hurt, you can press the morphine button a few times per hour. It's low dose since you were put under. The big red one will buzz the nurse’s station if you need help." Turning to glance at the rest of them, she added pointedly: "He needs rest."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, they'll be outta here in a bit," Richie told her, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a petulant school kid. Brow quirked at him, the nurse left without another word, clearly done with their antics.  
  
"Kicking us out?" Stan chirped, leaning back against the chair like he was making himself comfortable. Richie blew air through his lips in response, head shaking.  
  
"Though, now that you mention it," he mused, "aren’t you supposed to be babysitting Mike?"  
  
"Yeah, and he hates it, so he kicked me out."  
  
"We do need to see about lodgings," Bev cut in, glancing at the others before settling on Eddie again. "We're not leaving until you and Mike are ready to go with us."  
  
"I'm sure the doctor will be in soon to talk about recovery too," Bill added.  
  
"And a few of us need a shower," Richie murmured, grinning as he added, "Don’t worry babe, I got your sponge bath covered."

"Pretty sure you have to work here to do that, dipshit," Eddie mentioned wryly. Then, to Beverly and the others: "You guys probably need rest more than I do. I won't take it personally if you leave."  
  
There were a few more back and forths before they finally shuffled out, Eddie waving them along until the last butt finally disappeared out the door. Richie remained. He had a duty to his fake-husband.  
  
Eddie glanced up from the remote in his hand. There wasn't much to look at in the sparse room, after all. "Did you really tell the nurses we're married?" he asked, more curious than agitated.

"Yep," Richie answered, succinct and unabashed as he reclaimed his chair - maybe scooting a little closer to the bed, but only so he could rest his elbow on it, chin tipped against his hand. It was almost enough to put him below eye level of his reclined companion.  
  
"Couldn't have them calling your mom," he explained sincerely, eyes widening dramatically. "Much as I'd love to see Sonia after all these years. Plus, they tried to make me wait outside. I told you, Eds, I can't lose you. Not after all this. I can’t spend another day not seeing you."  
  
The words fell out of him before he could think about it, and Richie found himself biting his lips to make them stop. Eddie was hopped up on painkillers for fucks sake. Was now really the time for heartfelt confessions?

"I know, Richie, we always say that," Eddie replied softly. And to be fair, he was right. That was just the way things worked for the two of them. Planes, trains, and automobiles bringing them together, then apart.

But Richie couldn’t imagine going back to that. It was excruciating _without_ the near-death experiences. The easiest thing was to blame the morphine, or the trauma they had just endured (some more than others), or even Eddie's hard earned incredulity. But it couldn’t stop him from trying again. Not after everything had changed.  
  
"I'm serious, Kaspbrak," Richie declared quietly, reaching for a hand - only to realize the last one left was on the far side again. Well, last one right. He settled on Eddie's hip instead, fingers curling into the edge of the sheet. "I'm not leaving here without you. Take it however you want, wherever you want. The commute might be shit but I don't want to wake up without seeing you ever again. I can’t.”

Then, he repeated, unable to breeze through it this time:

“I love you."

Richie had finally caught Eddie’s attention just how he meant to, the attention of those brown eyes, dulled by medication. Maybe this was payback, for the way he’d handled the botched confession in his truck, all those years ago. If only they had covered this back then, and not now. Would have saved them both a whole lot of grief.

“Wait, really?” Eddie asked, voice small, like he was waiting for the punchline. As if it were a joke.

“For as far back as I know,” Richie whispered fiercely, voice almost breaking, as he laughed with the memory of a sentiment from the summer of 1992. “Maybe always.”

It was like releasing something he’d had to keep hidden for years, decades, centuries. Maybe that’s what he had meant to tell Eddie all along, back then when they graduated. He just didn’t have the life experience to know how, with everything at stake. The world wasn’t ready for them when they were eighteen. Fuck, Richie hadn’t been ready for them.

"I love you too," Eddie said - as if he even had to prove it.

"Great," Richie answered, whisper soft and throat tight, swallowing against the relief and elation erupting from his core. As if he could be surprised. Knowing this was the only certainty he had ever been able to count on, and yet here he was. Astonished beyond breath. Maybe because it was his fault it had never been confirmed sooner.  
  
"You want a spring wedding or a winter wedding? Not that I can wait that long. I'll get the rings and you start on a guest list. You're right handed, right?" Richie could hear himself teasing, and almost shook his head to take it back - the tone anyway. He couldn't quite help the smile that was stretching his cheeks already. And as much as he wanted to clutch the prone man against him, even Trashmouth Tozier, with forty years of practice, knew better than to throw himself across an injured chest. There would be plenty of time for embracing later. Forever.  
  
"They got great doctors in California, you know? Make house calls and everything. You won’t ever have to leave bed if you don’t want to. Hell, I got enough cash and spank bank to make sure of it." 

"Whoa whoa whoa," Eddie interjected, laughing as he crossed his hand over his body to take Richie’s. "Let's just get through the next few days, okay?"

Richie was so tired of _just getting through the next few days_. But he knew the love of his life was compromised right now, so he nodded, squeezing his hand affectionately, while he was allowed.

"Maybe I do need to rest." Situating himself a little lower so that he was flat against the bed, Eddie closed his eyes, overwhelmed with every heady breath that swelled his chest. "You can stay if you want."

The answer was yes. It would always be yes, and always had been.

***

"When do you get a prosthetic?" Ben asked, doing a very bad job of pretending not to stare at the flat empty sleeve at Eddie's side.  
  
"The doctor said I have to do physical therapy first. And I have to train with a lower grade one before I can get into anything electrical." Eddie sighed, and shut off the faucet so he could pick up the full glass, only for Beverly to swoop in and take it to the next room herself, like he couldn't fend for himself. Luckily, his punching arm was still intact, and he wasn’t afraid to use it (just not right now).  
  
They followed her, nonetheless, to Mike’s bedroom, where the others were situated around the big man himself, sitting at the end of his bed. His doctor ordered limited movement, gone from lying down in one place to another, basically. But at least he was home - even if that home happened to be in Derry, Maine.  
  
"I can't tell who's worse between the two of us," Eddie remarked, and smiled when Mike lit up, after an hour or so of pained expressions.

"Least your gorgeous faces are untouched," Richie laughed, perched against the window sill with his arms crossed. Beverly folded herself into the gap between his elbow and Ben's side - there was limited seating after all.  
  
"You'll be up and dancing in no time," Bill put in encouragingly, foot kicking up to knock Richie's shin from his position at Stan's elbow, by the wall.  
  
"Better be," Richie murmured, just loud enough to hear, winking at Eddie for no reason other than he could resist an effort to be obvious. The distance across Mike's bedroom suddenly seemed far too great, but Eddie was stupid if he thought he could unseat Beverly. So he just smiled with the rest of them, and took to leaning against the end post.  
  
"I just wish you weren't going to be here all alone," he admitted, drifting to look at everyone in succession. Bill had London and Stan had Atlanta, and Beverly wasn't even going to bother with the mess she left in Chicago from more than a few hundred miles away, in Omaha, with Ben. And apparently Eddie had a house to sell and a nursing home to call (as guilty as he felt about it with every passing day, no matter what he had come to terms with, what his friends told him, or what arrangements he had with Richie).  
  
"I'll be fine," Mike assured him. Eddie thought he had been doing the reassuring. "Not everyone can jet off to Hollywood with their superstar boyfriend after all."  
  
"Don't say that, his head's too big as it is." 

"Yes! Speaking of which," Richie exclaimed. He managed to get everyone's attention with little effort, no surprise, an easy feat for him (unless he had been at it for a while and people were starting to get bored). Either he'd grown out of his true antics, or the situation required fewer spectacles than usual.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you here today," the tall brunet began in his humblest tone, empty hand lifting to press against his chest.

"We were gathered?" Ben asked wryly, his arm coming around Bev's waist.

"I came for Mike," Stan put in, and Richie took a moment to point a finger at him, grinning.

"We all have, Staniel. But seriously, it's important for me that you're all here." His face straightened a bit as his eyes found Eddie's again, separated by two strides and nothing else.

Eddie crossed one leg over the other, when crossing his arms just wasn't going to work out, flustering a bit under the sudden and intense attention. It had been a long time since he found cause to get self-conscious in front of his friends, but with Richie coming forward, so set to task, it was hard to maintain his cool.

Eddie didn't know what to expect - probably a hug or kiss or something else rather uncalled for. Certainly not for Richie to drop to one knee, more graceful than those long limbs had managed in a long time. Smooth as you like, he retrieved a little velvet box from his pocket - and suddenly it was like Eddie had to look anywhere else but right in front of him.

"Will you marry me?" Richie asked quietly, grinning, despite the slight tremor in his voice.

Eddie’s chest swelled like he forgot how to exhale. Which was stupid really. They'd been talking about this since the hospital. But he hardly expected Richie to indulge such cliches. Wasn't that death for comedians?  
  
He didn't realize he hadn't offered an answer until his swirling thoughts were interrupted by Stan, tipping his head back to groan.

“Oh my _God_.”

"Shut up!" Eddie snapped, head whipping to the side, garnering laughter as his cheeks warmed. Since his voice box was working again, he faced front, knowing his answer in his bones. "Of course," he said, when every wry retort in his brain felt too wrong to indulge. "Of course, of fucking course."  
  
He couldn't drag Richie to his feet fast enough, tugging at the collar of his shirt until he was at full height, with just enough strength in his remaining arm to pull him down for a kiss muddled with all the smiles he couldn’t hold back. Celebratory sounds whooped from proud friends around them, and Eddie couldn’t decide whether he wanted them to clam up or keep going.

All things considered, in this moment, he was real damn lucky. Luckier than most. Even if his friends - and apparently his brand spanking new fiance - were turds.

Lifting off for air, Richie lifted to cup Eddie's cheek - only to recall the box caught in his fingers. Eddie hoped it was for a right hand. Prying it open, Richie presented the rounded silver band with little ceremony, apart from what he had just subjected them all to.

The ring was simple, and nothing like the garish, flashy things Eddie had imagined coming from their very own Trashmouth Tozier. Thank god for that.

Eddie chuckled a little derisively when he had to separate, if he wanted to get the damn thing on, holding out his hand for the ring to slip onto, with Richie’s assistance. He didn’t even care that it was the wrong hand. Depending on who you asked, a lot of the things Eddie did for love were wrong. He flashed his hand back and forth fondly, leaning against Richie when he couldn't hold on to him.  
  
"Sorry I'm so late," Richie murmured softly, sincere as he could possibly be. "But hey, I'll make it worth the wait."  
  
"You always do," Eddie answered, just as tenderly. Hopefully it was the last time. He anticipate any more waiting at all.  
  
Kissing Eddie square and soundly again, Richie got his arms all the way around his body, squeezing for all he was worth. Before they could really work themselves up, another set of arms came around both of them, and Eddie laughed into the crook of Richie's shoulder.  
  
"Sit down, old man, you'll hurt yourself," Richie teased Mike, grunting as another tight grip slid over them.

This was it, Eddie thought, as hands overlapped around their shoulders, soft bodies pressed to his back and sides. His favorite place and moment in all the universe.


End file.
